


Hopeful Heartbeats

by SamJoinedtheReconCorps



Series: A Flame in the Shadows [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Developing Friendships, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, because i mean of course these fucking nerds would flirt like this, but feelings are most definitely there, post ep 62, spellcasting as flirting, spoilers for ep 97
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23012293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamJoinedtheReconCorps/pseuds/SamJoinedtheReconCorps
Summary: Caleb is painfully reminded of a past friendship. Essek decides to teach Caleb some Dunamancy.Two wizards sitting five inches apart because this desk is tiny not because they like being close. Right?
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Series: A Flame in the Shadows [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648909
Comments: 20
Kudos: 173





	Hopeful Heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyyyy i'm back on my bullshit bitches, what about that talks machina huh??? how we doin' CR fam?? We still out here, still breathing?? Because fuck hearing them call Essek a war criminal, really, ah, makes all this hit different, like it's sinking in fam
> 
> but alas, i am lost to this hot boi, despite wanting to kick his fucking ass, and as such I have returned, your humble selfish creature who is only indulging in her Shadowgast shipping to her little hearts desire
> 
> I really hope you guys like it

It takes almost no time at all for them to pick out their rooms in the house that Shadowhand Thelyss had informed them was theirs, a rather grand gift from his den. The leftover rooms were quickly converted into a plethora of other things - like a war room, a training room, even a laboratory and library, or labrary for short, and a happy room, whatever that means that Jester will most certainly be handling.

To his relief, Caleb gets a room on the first floor, all to himself. It’ll make it easier for him to set out an  _ alarm _ right before bed by being so close to the front door, although Caduceus beats him to it by installing actual bells that ring whenever the door opens.

Even though right now the house only has basic furnishings, everyone immediately starts making themselves at home, going out of their way to decorate and truly set down roots here - literally, for Caduceus, as he used his tree token on the tower and sprouted a massive 60 foot tall tree that Jester then began helping him decorate with globes of  _ daylight _ to ensure it got some sun in the dark of Rosohna. It’s a nice passion project that they are all eager to take part in, and it definitely helps them pass the time before whatever event at the Overcrow comes around.

Caleb, for the most part, was preoccupied with Nott and Yeza setting up their shared lab/library, but as he heard the pair talking excitedly about their plans for future projects, Caleb’s heart sank as he realized that he had to talk to Nott about what she’d done - about the letter.

He’d been meaning to press the subject since she confessed to it in Asarius, but now was the best time to do so, when they had a roof over their heads and their own rooms to retreat to if this turned into an argument. Caleb really hoped it didn’t come to that.

“I - I did have a specific question for you,” Caleb started, after he’d pulled Nott aside from their laboratory constructions. “Um, something that I’ve been putting off, for a while, because we had bigger things on our plate, uh, but - uh, a while back you mentioned a specific letter -”

Nott gasps, her eyes going wide. “Oh.”

“- that you wrote on my behalf, or…?” Caleb trails off. “Tell me again, because I remember what you said, but I’m not sure I understand what you said.”

She’s already talking over him, but she averts his gaze. “I felt - I felt extremely guilty at, at - at the time. I thought that I was being helpful, trying to get you some sort of connection with your past.” She grimaces, glancing up at him. “But I didn’t know that your past was...” and now it's her turn to trail off.

“Did you get the sense from my story,” he takes a deep breath, “that I had fond connections of that past?”

“Of, of her, yes,” Nott answers honestly.

Hearing that out loud makes Caleb pause. He blinks, feeling - not exactly feeling that fondness anymore, but feeling the ghost of it, like a phantom pain that shudders in his chest. “But what did you say?”

“I didn’t - I-I wrote a letter,” Nott closes her eyes, and Caleb knows she’s trying her hardest to remember what was in it as best as she can. “Not even to the girl, Astrid -”

And hearing that name out loud rattles him, applying pressure to the pain.

“- but I think it was to her school, if I remember correctly,” Nott tells him.

This next part is the most important. “From whom?”

“From an interested party that was unnamed,” Nott says, looking down at the ground, but not as if she were trying to avoid his gaze to lie to him, but just trying to fish the memories out from the back of her mind.

“Did you - did, did you name anything, list anything that we have any connection to?” Caleb presses. He needed to know how much danger they were in.

Nott’s brows furrow worriedly. “I think I said something, and I could be wrong about this, if only I had your keen memory. Um -” She glances towards the door of the labrary before shouting, “JESTER, GET IN HERE!”

There’s the sound of rushing footsteps before the door’s thrown wide open. “Mmm?” she hums. “What is it?”

“Oi, oi, Jester - why is there paint all over you?” Nott asks, staring at the bright yellows and different shades of blues and pink that stain Jester’s arms, tiny flecks of paint even coloring her face.

“I’m making some modifications,” Jester answers, before asking again, “What is it?”

“You helped me with this - you helped me write this letter to -” Nott starts.

“What are you talking about?” Jester says, raising a yellow and pink brow. “What letter?”

“- to Astrid,” Nott reminds her. “There was an Astrid, we wrote a letter to Astrid.”

Jester is still completely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember? This was a while back, we were in -” Nott falters, scrunching up her nose, “Zadash? I want to say?”

Caleb raises a hand to slow her down. “One moment,” he gets out, feeling as his throat threatens to close up entirely. “You - you have explained A-a-astrid to Jester?” And Caleb can’t help the feeling of betrayal that rises inside of him, like a wave lapping at the shore.

“You talked to me about Astrid,” Jester tells Caleb.

And then he remembers - the drinking competition, the dancing in Hupperdook, his slip up. “Some,” he admits weakly.

“Yeah,” Jester nods, fiddling with her hair nervously.

“I just -” Nott starts again, as Jester says, “You didn’t -”

“- she didn’t say -” Jester continues as Nott asks, “Was it a secret?”

“- who Astrid was,” Jester finishes halfheartedly. “She just said, ‘Astrid’ and I just wrote it. If you - if there’s something I’m not supposed to know or something -”

“I didn’t know it was such a secret,” Nott repeats, her yellow eyes filled with regret.

“But you said her name,” Jester reminds him.

Nott wrings her hands anxiously. “You just told me that she was a old friend of yours from when you were a student.”

“Yeah,” Jester agrees.

Caleb can’t do anything but listen to them, echoing them feebly to confirm what they were saying. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You seemed like you liked her a lot, Caleb,” Jester tells him, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Yeah,” Caleb repeats. The phantom pain shudders again.

“That’s all,” Jester shrugs, her shoulders barely even moving.

Caleb can feel himself starting to shut down. “Yeah, okay.”

“I just inquired about her whereabouts as an interested party,” Nott explains. “I think we said something about being relatives, needing to contact her for some sort of -”

“Yes, yes,” Jester chimes in. “We said we were going to offer her a lot of money or something, right?”

Nott nods. “I think it was like an inheritance that we had to find for her.”

“That’s right,” Jester confirms. “So we didn’t say anything about -”

“What about a return address, or?” Caleb forces himself to ask.

“I believe this was at the Pillow Trove?” Nott turns to Jester.

“Yes, it was at the Pillow - you know we should really go back to Zadash,” Jester muses, frowning at the thought.

Nott looks back at Caleb. “I think we said if you have information send it to the Pillow Trove.”

Jester gasps. “Oh my gosh, you know what I’m going to do?”

“What?” Nott asks, looking at her quizzically.

Jester pulls out a tiny copper wire, gesturing with her hand before she speaks again. “ _ Hi, it’s me, Jester Lavorre. I used to stay there. Have there any - been any letters or packages for me? I was blue. _ ”

Silence falls over the room for a few seconds as Jester listens for a response and Nott watches her, and Caleb quietly tries to hold himself together as he feels he’s fraying at the seams. Jester raises a finger, concentrating, before she shakes her hands in a  _ what else _ gesture frustratedly.

“Fuck,” Nott curses as Jester groans.

She makes the same motion again with the copper wire. “ _ Who’s the fucking package from, then? _ ”

“And open it! What’s in it?” Nott exclaims.

“ _ Open it up! What is it? Tell me about it _ ,” Jester says.

There’s a bit more silence before Jester gasps, smiling fondly, “Oh, it's our - my pen pal. Our pen pal!”

Nott catches on much quicker than Jester had earlier. “Oh, that’s right,” she smiles.

“Calianna sent us a package?” Jester says, putting her hands to her chest, clearly touched. “Oh, we have to go back to Zadash. What if it was like baked goods or something? I bet they’re really gross now.” Jester pauses, then gasps again. “There’s a letter. There’s a letter.”

“Ask if there’s - ask again, use your fucking spell again!” Nott urges her.

Groaning again, Jester does as told. “ _ Who’s the letter from? Is it for, is - um - _ ”

“Open it!” Nott says again.

Jester nods. “ _Open it up!_ ”  
“You have my permission,” Nott tells her.

Without missing a beat, Jester repeats, “ _ You have my permission. _ ”

More silence, then Jester’s mouth drops open as her eyes widen. She turns to Nott, almost as if she’s afraid to even turn to Caleb. “It’s from the Soltryce Academy. It seems official.”

“We’ll never go back to Zadash,” Nott decides immediately. “We’ll never go back to Zadash, and if we do -”

“No, we have to go back, because that’s where my dad is,” Jester reminds her.

Taking that into account, Nott comes up with another plan. “We’ll kill the owner, burn down her establishment, and no one will ever know that we were ever there, or that it exists.”

Caleb feels like the room is spinning. “Did you make any, any - any mention of any of us, of, of anyone you know -”

“I think we said our name was like, Nott - we said our, that like, Nott and Lavorre, lawyer -” Jester starts.

Nott’s expression drops. “Oh, we did.”

“We put our name on it,” Jester admits.

“You used - you used the name, Lavorre?” Caleb asks for clarification.

“M-maybe not, maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was just the Nott,” Jester rushes out.

“But did you, maybe?” Caleb presses.

“I think maybe we did,” both Nott and Jester sigh, turning to each other.

“It might have been Nott the Brave or some - no, that’s probably not what we said,” Jester frowns, and now she’s wringing her hands too.

Nott looks at Jester before dropping her gaze. “It was like, Lavorre and Company, Attorneys at Law, or something.”

“Let me elaborate a little bit, Jester,” Caleb starts, because he  _ needs _ them to know just how dangerous this is. “Nott - Nott knows some, some of this, but Astrid and, and - and other people that I used to know, um, wouldn’t, wouldn’t - would, uh, not take kindly to finding me, and I worry about any, ah, openings that we have made for them.” Taking a deep breath, Caleb tries to convince himself that not everything was lost, yet his heart continues to sink the more he thinks about it. “Now, that is mitigated somewhat by the, the concept that we have revealed ourselves to hidden eyes in front of the Empress, but I - I worry slightly about your mother, maybe. I-if you used that name, maybe.”

“Oh, no,” Jester says, quiet and so unlike her, betraying her fear.

“Your mother is f-famous,” Caleb reminds her.

“She is,” Jester confirms.

“Yeah,” Caleb whispers. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think they’re going to hurt her?” she asks.

“Have you spoken to her recently?” he answers.

Jester nods fervently. “Yeah, yeah, I speak to her almost every - every night.” She pauses. “Every other night - I go a little long sometimes, and I should call my mama more, honestly. But I did talk to her very recently.”

Caleb nods. “I want to help you see her but we should be very care-careful.”

“Okay,” Jester agrees. “But you can - you can take us to Nicodranas whenever we need to go.”

He touches the spot over his chest where his spellbook sits snug in it's holster. “Now, yes. But it’s just one, ah, layer of complication. Maybe.”

Jester nods once. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Nott apologizes. Her shoulders are pinched nervously, her eyes resolutely on the floor. “I just wanted you to have a friend.”

Caleb feels some of his own tension disappear at her words. “I have friends.”

“Well, you didn’t, then,” Nott answers.

“Yeah, at the time, it was really touch and go, you know,” Jester shrugs with a small frown.

“You’re really standoffish, this was a while back,” Nott adds.

“I think this was right after you did the mud on your face thing, and it was - I felt really guilty,” Jester continues.

Caleb looks away, digging his fingers into the sleeves of his coat as he begins to scratch. “Yeah, it’s as much - it’s as much my fault as anyone’s.”

They both immediately erupt in a chorus of “No”s and “Don’t blame yourself” before Nott and Jester start parceling out blame with each other, deciding who was the most guilty of the two.

He watches them throw the guilt around, and it makes him relax a little more - and suddenly it's funny, deep down. For a second he had thought that after Astrid, maybe Jester - shaking his head fondly, he sighs. He knows that whatever he’d felt for Jester way back when had been conflated with his fondness for her and his old feelings for Astrid that got stirred up that night in Hupperdook - now though, he knows that he cares about Jester deeply. But not like that.

“It’s - it’s really alright,” Caleb finally cuts in again. “I think the time when someone comes to find,” he lets out a shaky exhale, “me is inevitable at this point, but that is possibly one point of entry, so.”

“So, but, do you like Astrid?” Jester asks, because of course she would ask.

Caleb nods, honest. “I-I, I did, yeah,” he answers, and that final tension releases in his chest. He did. But not anymore. “Yeah.”

“Maybe she’ll just want to hang out and be friends again,” Nott optimistically suggests.

“Yeah,” Jester agrees.

“I don’t know.” He does know. “For a while, she was the one, but that was a long time ago.” He looks away. While the phantom pain that had gripped his chest is gone, the anxiety that torments his brain hasn’t let up in the slightest. “Okay,” he nods, and without saying another word he leaves the conversation, hoping a few minutes alone will be enough for him to put himself back together.

* * *

When he’d heard that his charges had certainly made their presence known in the Firmaments, Essek had merely assumed that the neighboring homeowners had noticed them out and about in the house or even that their moorbounders had drawn their attention. Never - especially not in his first life - would he have imagined that the reason they made a statement was because of the giant tree they had planted in their tower.

As Essek finally made his way over after finding a lull in his Shadowhand duties, he immediately noticed the tree, even from blocks away. There were moving lights up in the canopy, illuminating the tree and drawing the eye to it since it so vastly contrasted with the night of Rosohna.

Getting close to the house, he could see that Jester and Caduceus were the source of the moving lights as they were apparently stringing up lanterns of some kind. He watched them move around the top of the tower precariously, reckless in their endeavor as Jester stood on Caduceus’ shoulders. With a still surprised look, Essek crossed his arms to already have them free and out of his mantle if he needed to cast any gravitational spell to keep them from plummeting to the ground if they lost their footing.

He’s still watching when he feels a few people sidle up to him, and out of his periphery he can see Caleb and a few other members of the group.

“This is, ah - you’ve certainly made it comfortable quickly,” Essek granted.

“Yeah,” the human woman - Beauregard, as the reports had informed him - agreed.

“We are making ourselves at home,” Caleb told him, and he sounded different, a little warmer, perhaps.

“I can see that.” Essek’s eyes leave the pair on the tower as he glances at his company, and suddenly he wishes he hadn’t. “Made a - made a splash,” he gets out.

While he should have imagined that everyone was going to eventually start dressing in a more Xhorhassian fashion, Essek was caught off guard yet again by their group. They looked like they belonged, their silhouettes better defined by their new clothes. Now they were certainly dressing the part of the formidable mercenary group that they had proven to be.

But Caleb - Caleb almost left him speechless. He was dressed in a fine dark purple coat with faint silver geometric designs embroidered on the hem, with a matching silver tinted purple scarf loosely wrapped around his neck, highlighting his slight stubble after what Essek assumes was a few days since shaving. His black trousers are also more in line with Rosohna’s fashion, looking much softer than the weathered and sturdy ones he’d been wearing, and his boots weren’t the old beaten and battered pair but instead new charcoal grey ones and -

Essek froze.

When, by the light of the Luxon, had he noticed what kind of  _ pants _ Caleb wore?

“Do you wanna stay for dinner?” Beauregard asks, and it snaps Essek out of his thoughts, making him realize that a small smile had even managed to spread across his face. “Caduceus is probably whipping up something delicious and vegan.”

“No, I’m quite alright,” Essek answers, “I have some research to do but I appreciate the offer.”

“You want a rain check?” Beauregard asks again.

The half-orc - who he has learned from his sources is called Fjord - shakes his head, watching her. “Boy, your face just does not look as inviting as you think it does,” he tells her, and, thankfully, his quip manages to drown out Essek’s quiet, “Certainly.”

“Oh, sorry - see, I hadn’t - sorry,” Beauregard apologizes, scrunching up her face.

“Yeah, just get a little pinch on these - ah, wake ‘em up,” Fjord suggested, clearly meaning that a smile might be enough to make her seem much less brusque and unapproachable.

“What is the nature of your, ah, research?” Caleb asked him, turning his attention from his friends to Essek. He seems genuinely curious, his eyes bright with interest.

“Um,” Essek starts, mentally kicking himself into gear. “My specialities.”

“Well, would you like to,” Beauregard starts again, before Fjord smiles broadly beside her. “Sorry,” she clears her throat, then plasters a stiff smile on her face. “Would you like to take a break from your research and maybe just get a drink?” she grits out.

Although Essek is now watching Beauregard’s frankly terrifying attempt at appearing more welcoming, he catches Caleb pull out a small journal from within his coat, writing something inside before it disappears again.

“I’m alright, but thank you,” Essek answers, ever polite.

“Alright,” Beauregard shrugs, dropping the smile.

“But, interesting,” he says, gesturing towards the tree. “Definitely the first.”

They watch the pair continue to traipse around the tree before Fjord asks, “Do you know anything about our neighbors to the left, the family of Lord Bilan?”

Essek knows his dislike must have shown on his face. “Ah, stuffy sort.”

“Yeah,” Fjord agrees. “Not very talkative - or friendly.”

While Essek’s worryingly uncharacteristic first instinct is to bristle at the thought that someone as inconsequential as Lord Bilan has made their group uncomfortable, he instead tries to sympathize with him, especially given the unique neighbors he now has. “Well, let’s be real, you’ve -” and he merely points at the giant tree now taking residence on their tower.

“Yeah, the - the tree,” Fjord nods quickly. He sighs. “Um, by the way, I - I tried to ask, just in case he was also a member of Den Thelyss? He didn’t, ah, volunteer what den he was a part of, is that a faux pas?”

“Touchy subject?” Caleb guessed.

“Not particularly, no, but he is from Den Bilan,” Essek says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And to him it is, but these people aren’t from the Dynasty, he reminds himself. They’re new and young and shiny - just like him, but in their own way.

“Den Bilan,” Fjord repeats, nodding slowly.

“The surnames, they’re adopted from the dens,” Essek explains.

“Oh, shit,” Fjord mumbles, and the journey of emotions on his face rivals that of when he asked about how they would know about the sun worship. “Yep.”

“But, there’s four dens, right? There’s only four dens?” Beauregard asks.

“Three primary dens, and there are -” Essek starts.

“There’s many dens,” Beauregard finishes for him.

“A dozen dens,” Essek tells her.

“Dozens and dozens,” Beauregard nods, understanding now.

“Yeah, Bilan’s not one of the main three, though,” Fjord clarifies.

“No,” Essek confirms. “Thelyss is one.”

“Do you know who lives - who our other neighbors are, or?” the quiet woman - Yasha, is her name - finally speaks up.

“It seems empty to us, but apparently not?” Caleb adds, motioning towards the house Yasha was referring to.

Essek glances over at the house in question, trying to remember what he knows. He can’t remember much, aside from the fact that they were clean and clear of anything that might give Essek pause in housing the group so close to them, so they definitely weren’t a threat or dangerous by any means. “I’m not too familiar with this neighborhood,” he answers honestly. “I - I don’t know, I don’t live in this area, so.”

“Where do you live?” Yasha asks.

Ever guarded, Essek instinctively drifts back an inch. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just - I want to know, ah, more about you,” she admits, and she even seems to surprise herself with her words. “And get to know the, the - the place that we are living in at the moment.” She can’t seem to stem the flow of words coming out of her mouth, “What neighborhood? Ah, I’m being very forward, I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me, nevermind.”

“Um, most of my den live within the, ah, Lucid Bastion, but I spend a lot of my time either researching,” Essek’s eyes flick to Caleb for a half-second, “dunamantic pursuits within the Bastion, or within the Conservatory.”

And better than if he had planned it, Caleb is lured in. “Are those the main avenues for learning such?” he asks, the hunger in his eyes clear and enticing in their own right.

“They are the only avenues,” Essek simply answers. Feigning ignorance, he adds on a question that he already knows the answer to, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I am a big learner, I’m curious.” He has a small smile on his face, hesitant and hopeful. “Uh, I know that we are new here, but I am very interested in tutelage in this field, and you have been privy to, ah, our conversations with your queen, and -”

Essek sees that hint of hope begin to falter, and realizes that Caleb has come to his own realization that this is a futile endeavor. Without thinking, with the intention of keeping that spark in his eyes, Essek cuts in. “Show me,” he commands. He crosses his arms again. “Show me something impressive, show me something at the height of your power. You are an arcanist, yes?”

“Do - do you, do - do you wanna - do you wanna go inside for this?” Beauregard jumps in, nervously stumbling over her words. “Like, or at least in the threshold of the walls and not be in the street?”

Without taking his eyes off Caleb, Essek answers Beauregard - but it is clear he is talking to Caleb. “I think if you are, if you are trained enough to be pursuing such things, that you would know the limits and the safety of your capabilities, so, um.” He looks Caleb up and down, and - although he would never admit it - takes his time as his eyes travel before meeting Caleb’s again. “Show me.”

Caleb blinks once and suddenly there is a floating cat between him and Essek, a floating cat that immediately morphs and expands into a gigantic cat’s paw. It flexes, before waving, almost playful in nature, and Essek can’t help but let out a short laugh before he reigns in his reaction.

“Interesting,” he says, keeping his voice level. He meets Caleb’s gaze again through the translucent orange visage of the cat’s paw, and seeing him painted in the warm hue makes Essek think of the novels he used to read, about soft sunsets in far off lands. Essek shakes the thought from his mind, asking instead, “And, if I might ask, um, what is it that you’re, ah, seeking? What is your ultimate goal? Anyone who pursues such magics, to an extent, has something that they wish to do.”

And maybe Essek is reaching, maybe Essek is projecting, maybe Essek is  _ confessing _ to his own ulterior motives, but it is a shout into the void. These are strangers, they do not know him.

_ Yet, _ the quiet part of him whispers.

“I am of, ah, middling experience in the traditional sense. Ah, what I’m very curious about is, ah, the arcane here, in your country,” Caleb explains.

“Yes, you and many,” Essek answers, leaning closer despite the cat’s paw. “Many, many, many people.”

Caleb nods, looking down for a brief moment before meeting Essek’s gaze again, and the fire in his eyes is unmistakable. “Yes, but as you know, my people are perverting your magic, and we wish to work with you to prevent that, as we have exhibited, and I wish to understand better, so that I can better help.”

Essek can feel the small smile that was on his face slip, hearing about the perversion of Xhorhassian magic at the hands of the Empire. A perversion he has allowed - one that he has  _ facilitated _ . It reminds him again of the threat these people pose, of the way they have unraveled part of his work and the way they could unravel it all and expose him. It chills him.

But - but it warms him at the same time. Caleb wants to work  _ with _ him. Caleb wants to help - Caleb’s den wants to help too, if how he has spoken up for the others holds true. These strangers from an enemy country have decided that things as they are are  _ wrong _ , and they are trying to right them.

He feels like he is looking into a mirror, looking at his younger self - so idealistic, so full of hope and awe and wonder. So trusting, of the world and of its denizens.

Maybe that’s what prompts Essek to ask, “Are you busy right now?”

Caleb shakes his head.

Essek nods, glancing over towards the house. “May I enter?”

“I invited you twice,” Beauregard starts, almost sounding offended as she gestures for the door, “but yeah, yeah, go ahead, enter, yeah.”

Fjord has a look on his face akin to disbelief as he watches her. “Yes, it would be lovely to have you inside our home,” he coaches her to say.

“I was -” Essek tries to correct, but Beauregard is loud as she begins to copy Fjord, “I mean, yes -”

Essek tries again, cutting her off successfully this time. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Beauregard’s expression freezes, and Essek can almost feel the murderous energy just radiating off her. And while he had said it to see if his words could elicit a reaction from Caleb, Essek is also fairly proud of the way he has riled her up. It was a little fun, like the way his friends would tease him. Back when he had friends.

“The fuck,” Beauregard muttered under her breath.

However, Essek’s intention did bear fruit as Caleb sends the cat’s paw over to the door, having the massive conjured being delicately open it.

There’s the loud sound of bells, almost akin to an audible  _ alarm  _ spell, causing Jester to look over and call out, “Hi, everyone!”

Essek gives her and Caduceus a small wave, one that they brightly return before going back to working on their lights.

“Oh, did we have company?” a voice that sounds like Veth shouts from somewhere inside the house.

Caleb gives a slight bow, the small smile back on his face as he gestures to the door. “Do come in.”

He looks dashing and charismatic in a way Essek had never seen Caleb look before, and before he can comment or commit the image to memory Essek glides past him and goes inside the house. Glancing around from the entryway, he can see inside one of the rooms on the first floor, catching sight of a desk and a few books.

“A bit empty, but it could work,” he says, making his way over.

Caleb, along with Fjord and Beauregard, follow behind him. Beauregard tries once again to be a gracious host. “Do you want that cocktail? Caduceus has been making something with turmeric that’s really weird -”

“Face, face,” Fjord reminds her.

The forced grin is back in place as she continues, “It’s a very refreshing cocktail, perfect for this nice, fall breeze.”

Seeing her try so hard looks so painful that Essek finally relents. “Sure.”

“Ioun’s wisdom,” Beauregard huffs out, moving to high five Fjord. “Look at that! Did you see that fucking host?”

“That’s how we do it,” he cheers.

“I’m a fucking host! Yeah!” she exclaims, pumping her fist in the air.

He watches them with mild amusement, his hand already tracing the familiar sigils into the air that will materialize his spellbook from it's pocket dimension. He immediately feels it's familiar weight in his hands, and opens it up, thumbing through all his spells to find the right ones to start with.

“Do you have means of copying?” Essek asks, glancing up at Caleb and seeing the absolutely captivated look on his face, and Essek realizes that it must be because of the way he conjured his spellbook.

Looking down, Caleb opens up his coat just slightly - enough for Essek to see the corner of a leather strap, and Essek is immediately reminded of the state in which Caleb had first walked into his life - before pulling out what must be his own spellbook. He opens it up and turns back to Essek expectantly.

The smile that spreads across Essek’s face is charged with everything he wasn’t admitting about how he felt. “Let me teach you a few things.”

They walk into the study - the labrary, as Caleb explains - and Caleb pulls up another chair to the desk, away from the alchemical worktable. He holds the chair out for Essek, allowing him to sit before taking the chair beside him.

Essek already has a few spells in mind, but he decides to ask Caleb what he would like to learn in order to narrow his choices down - he wasn't going to be teaching him  _ too _ much right off the bat. He needed to keep a few more spells in his pocket for future lessons after all.

“So this could be three utility, meager spells of dunamancy - you have a few things at your disposal.” He glances down at his spellbook, sitting partially shut on the desk to keep its contents hidden. “There is also a few with a slight more kick. And, ah - or one, it is a little more of a influence, if you will.” He looks to Caleb, and while he feels he should be startled by their closeness, all he finds is that he feels comfortable. “What is your interest? Are you interested in things such as, ah, density, gravity, things that manipulate the relationship between objects? Are you more interested in the bending of fate, destiny?” Caleb’s eyes brighten excitedly, but Essek continues on to make sure he hears all the options. “Um, or - or do you wish to, ah, find ways to sap and scatter the potentiality of your enemy?”

“Let’s go back one,” Caleb says, his voice even, as if he weren’t radiating with energy at the potential of learning dunamancy. He shrugs off his coat, pushing up his shirtsleeves and pulling his inkwell closer as he opens his spellbook to a fresh page. Essek catches sight of scars that crisscross both of his forearms, and his heart aches, but he pushes that aside. They were still strangers.

“Alright,” Essek nods. He opens up his spellbook, quickly thumbing through it and finding the right spells. “We have -”

The next six hours go by in a blur of spellcraft and Beauregard’s occasional entrance with drinks. Essek decides to teach Caleb  _ Fortune's Favor _ and  _ Gift of Alacrity _ , two highly useful spells that can easily turn an encounter or even a battle in their favor if correctly applied. Caleb is a fast learner, and, most importantly, he does not balk at failure. When his first attempts at casting the spell don’t succeed, he’s right back at it, reworking his somatic gestures or correcting his enunciation of the verbal components. Essek is patient and helpful every step of the way, slowly going over the parts that give Caleb the most trouble.

With his Zemnian accent some of the Undercommon Xhorhassian consonants blend in an unfamiliar way, prompting longer time spent on that aspect of the spellcasting than on the somatic or material parts. Essek is loath to admit that he delighted in teaching Caleb all about the verbal portions of the spells, carefully watching as his lips formed the words and correcting him when need be - and it made Essek a little warm whenever Caleb dedicated his utmost attention to Essek’s pronunciation, his eyes never leaving Essek’s lips and slowly imitating their movements.

In a truly spectacular lapse that Essek hopes will be easy for him to forget, he even found himself looking at Caleb’s lips when they  _ weren’t _ going over the verbal portions, his mind wandering and imagining what it would feel like to feel those verbal components against his own.

That quiet part of him really doubted he would be successful in forgetting that.

While they work, Caleb diligently focuses on just those two spells, an astronomically impressive feat in Essek’s eyes since Caleb was just so eager to learn. It makes Essek trust Caleb more, to know that he respects boundaries.

After first mastering  _ Gift of Alacrity _ , Caleb focuses the rest of their time on  _ Fortune’s Favor. _ It’s one of Essek’s personal favorites, and one that he hopes can be of service to Caleb and their motley crew. Once Caleb has tried to perform the spell and failed a handful of times, he quietly turns to Essek.

“May I try to cast it on you?” he asks. Before Essek can answer, he rushes out, “I just feel like I may be able to figure out what I am doing wrong if I were to try on someone else.”

Essek nods. He was going to say yes even before Caleb explained. “Tap into that,” Essek instructs, tapping Caleb’s chest once. “Focus, and will your desired outcome into existence.”

“Okay,” Caleb gets out. He takes a deep breath, grabbing the small pearl component and placing it on Essek’s forehead, between his brow, in the small space right above the curve of his nose. Caleb’s eyes close as he focuses, his lips moving as he quietly recites the verbal components.

Essek finds his eyes slipping shut, and suddenly, he feels it - he can feel the bright string of his destiny, of this timeline, stretch into his past and rush towards his future, and right beside that string he can sense a gentle presence. Caleb’s presence.

It’s different from when he casts it on himself, where he pulls the string in the direction he wants it to go. No, this is different - this is Caleb’s will floating softly at the periphery, ready to help guide him towards the right outcome. Towards the better path.

He opens his eyes, seeing that Caleb has already opened his own and is staring at him excitedly. “It worked,” he breathed out, his smile soft and infectious.

Essek gives him a wordless nod, not trusting his voice. He can still feel Caleb, the thrum of possibility that he’s given him thumping in his chest like a twin heartbeat.

“Thank you,” Caleb says softly. “For teaching me.”

“Of course,” Essek smiles back, slowly shutting his spellbook and letting it scatter away, dissolving back into its pocket plane.

Beauregard chose that exact moment to walk back in, a new drink in hand.

“Thank you,” he nods to her, accepting the drink. His eyes are only for Caleb though. “I’m interested to see what you do with these.”

“I need a little bit of time to figure them out,” he answers, almost sheepish.

“Well, rudimentary, but they are the beginning building blocks,” Essek shrugs.

“This is a great gift,” Caleb admits, staring down at the spells now transcribed into his spellbook.

And Essek remembers that he can use this. “Remember it, there may be a time where I need to call a favor back in.”

Caleb’s smile drops, his expression falling into neutrality. “Done,” he replies.

“Very well,” Essek says, and his chest tightens as he feels he has misstepped - misstepped and somehow ruined the moment he had shared with Caleb.

“What do you think?” Beauregard asks as Essek takes a sip of the drink to hide his own disappointment with himself.

“Would you like a closer look at the tree?” Caleb quietly offers, but he doesn’t sound excited or eager, just polite.

“I’m fine,” Essek answers, suddenly feeling like he should probably go before he managed to ruin things beyond salvation. Turning to Beauregard, he gestures towards the drink, “And it’s not bad. Unique, is that, ah, turmeric?”

“Mhm,” Beauregard hums. “Caduceus calls it a White Xhorhassian.”

Essek sighs. A misstep for a misstep. “Mildly racist, but, uh…” And he can see Beauregard cringe as Caleb flinches, and he knows their intentions are pure and that they mean no harm in their ignorance. He feels he deserves it anyway, although they don’t know that. As the silence grows long and awkward and neither of the three seem keen on breaking it, Essek finally says, “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

They walk him to the door, Beauregard giving him an apologetic nod before heading elsewhere inside the house. The bells ring again as the front door opens.

“Thank you, once again, for taking the time to show me these spells,” Caleb tells him. “It has been a while since magic has been so - exciting.”

Essek thinks about saying you’re welcome and taking his leave, but then that twin heartbeat thumps in tandem with his own as he steps out, turning to look at Caleb before leaving. Caleb, with his ink smudged fingers and bright but sad eyes and brilliant mind, with his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his research-messy hair and his scarf that has come unwound and now sits open, draped across his shoulders, and there’s a twin heartbeat that psychs to beat as one in Essek chest as Essek says, “I hope that our next lesson will be exciting as well.”

Caleb’s eyes shine again. “I cannot wait. Have a nice evening, Shadowhand Essek.”

“You too, Caleb Widogast.” He moves across their yard and past their gate, giving Caleb one last look before gliding away, heading towards his own home, the sound of Caleb saying his name ringing in his ears, the lilt and softness in his voice making Essek want to hear it again.

It isn’t until he has crossed his own threshold that he realizes that the twin heartbeat is gone - he had used the  _ Fortune’s Favor _ that Caleb had given him without noticing. He feels that he should feel the loss of Caleb’s magic, but all he can feel is warmth at the sensory memory of how it felt, to have Caleb so close.

* * *

It is merely days before the meeting at the Overcrow is to take place, and while that is their most pressing and immediate priority, their most important priority is Luc, Nott - Veth and Yeza’s son, and getting him to safety. It is a discussion where many ideas are tossed up before getting thrown out, with the idea of even splitting the group up getting floated around as a likely possibility, with those who leave taking care of Luc and those who remain handling things at the Overcrow.

That particular idea doesn’t really appeal to Caleb, and while he can transport them to Nicodranas and back to Rosohna within a day or two, he cannot get them to Alfield. Maybe that’s why he speaks up. “I wonder,” he starts, “I wonder if Essek - or someone, here would be willing to send even just a couple of us, maybe all of us, but even if it was just a few of us, to Alfield.” He glances around at the group. “I could get us to Nicodranas”

“How would Essek do that?” Nott asks.

“Well, I’m not the only person in the world who knows how to jump across the continents,” Caleb answers. He’s sure that Essek has such magic at his disposal. “If someone here could send us, we could go to your boy, then I could take us to Nicodranas from anywhere. Then we’ll jump back.”

Ultimately the discussion is tabled and no real decision is made, but Caleb finds himself remembering Nott’s words from a few days ago.

“ _ I just wanted you to have a friend _ .”

Looking around at them all, he knows now that he has friends - good friends, friends that he trusts and that he cares about.

He feels his spellbook against his chest, feels it's weight with every heartbeat.

And maybe, just maybe, Caleb feels like he’s ready to make a new friend.

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly didn't even expect to have so many like, heart imagery or references or allusions, and I DEFINITELY didn't intend to like, have them mirror each other in that respect, but here we fucking are, it's 1 in the morning and my life is unraveling as we speak because Matthew Mercer decided to end us with that betrayal
> 
> here's to hoping he can find his path to redemption T.T because idk if imma make it otherwise gang, i don't think my heart can handle it
> 
> anyways, thank you so so so so so much for reading, I really hope you guys liked it!!
> 
> The scenes that inspired this fic are from:  
> Domestic Respite | Critical Role | Campaign 2, Episode 62 - 1:09:30 - 1:19:00, 1:44:15 - 1:56:50, and 2:49:00


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